


Take My Heart, And I'll Lay Down My Weapons

by neverthelessthesun



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Avengers Family, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Canon-Typical Violence, Communication, Drinking & Talking, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, His people try to take care of him back, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Steve Rogers, POV Tony Stark, Songfic, Steve Needs a Hug, Strip Poker, Thor Is Not Stupid, Tony Angst, Tony takes care of his people, it switches, like twice, not AOU compliant, therapist needed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 14:10:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5166743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverthelessthesun/pseuds/neverthelessthesun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There comes a moment in every superhero's life where he realizes he is in love with his teammate.<br/>Well, maybe not every superhero, but that's how it was for Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take My Heart, And I'll Lay Down My Weapons

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and thank you for giving this fic a go! I hope you enjoy.  
> Song lyrics and title are from "Run To You" by Pentatonix. //www.youtube.com/watch?v=sp7PS_UN8Lo

_“A light in the room_  
_It was you who was standing there._  
_Tried, it was true_  
_As your glance met my stare.” —Pentatonix, “Run To You”_

.o0o.

It’s a soft thing when it does happen, like a breath of wind, something you almost don’t notice. Steve wouldn’t have seen it if he wasn’t looking for it, expecting that small shift in their dynamic. He had been on the edge for so long, and now…

Well. Now, he was desperately in love with his teammate. 

It happens at the most organic of times. Iron Man had just flipped up the visor on his helmet, and the fight was over, and Steve’s adrenaline was cooling in his veins but he was still on fire. The muscles in his arms and torso burned with overextension, but the sting of healing flesh was starting to overtake that. He would be back to normal before the debrief was over. 

Natasha was rappelling down the side of a nearby building, three of Clint’s arrows clutched in her hand. Thor was bellowing at the shells of a few dozen doombots. something about honor and glorious battle. The Hulk had sat this one out, but Steve could hear Bruce jabbering to Coulson on the comms about property damage. All his people were accounted for. Even Tony was smiling. 

“Good game, Spangles,” he tossed over his shoulder. “We almost had a perfect run. I give it a 7.5 out of ten.”

Natasha huffed. “It was at least a nine, Stark. No casualties or injuries, minor damage, we even caught the criminal mastermind.”

While the two of them bickered, Steve looked on fondly. Tony’s suit was catching the sunlight, and his hair was sticking out like a porcupine’s bristles. It was dirty and sweaty—they all were—but it was endearing in that way which never makes sense to folks outside the relationship. He was laughing at something Natasha had muttered in French, and responding in kind, and as his glance caught Steve’s stare, he felt his whole world move a half inch over from where it had been. 

There. That was the moment.

A breath of wind caught Tony’s damp hair and blew it into his face. He shook it out and turned back to Natasha, but the small, joyful smile he had given Steve still hung in the air. Steve thought it was the sort of thing that he would see behind his eyelids for the rest of his life. 

Clint stood beside him, not looking at him or making any sound. Steve wasn’t sure how long he had been there, but the way his sunglasses were pushed close to his forehead meant that he was listening to Coulson with the same lovesick gleam in his eye that Steve got when he looked at Tony. “We are so screwed,” Steve murmured.

“Yep,” the marksman said. “That seems to be the running theme with us superheroes.”

Steve couldn’t hold back a dark laugh. He clapped Clint’s shoulder (lightly, lightly, everyone is weaker than him now) and they set off to debrief.

 

.o0o.

 

_“But your heart drifted off_  
_Like the land split by sea._  
_I tried to go, to follow_  
_To kneel down at your feet.” —Pentatonix, “Run To You”_

.o0o.

“I don’t want a stable, loving relationship,” Tony proclaimed. “That’s the thing no one seems to understand.”

“Tony,” Pepper admonished from behind her extra dry martini.

“What, Pep? Like it worked out for us? You were the longest relationship I have ever had, and clearly I suck at it.”

“Tony,” she said, sharper this time. “That is—not the point.”

“Ah, but it is true, you admit?”

“Of course you’re a terrible long-term boyfriend. I didn’t expect—“

“I know, I know, Pep. Everyone lowers their standards for me, it really isn’t fair to all the little people.”

“But if—“

“If you were about to say ‘if you applied yourself’ I might have to take back you access codes. JARVIS, take back Pepper’s access codes.”

“Negative, Sir. Your blood alcohol level is at the point where I am supposed to ignore everything you say concerning Miss Potts, Stark Industries, the Avengers, or Nick Fury’s eyepatch.”

“Rats! foiled by my past self.”

“But seriously, Tony, a long-term relationship would be good for you. Someone who can put up with the death-defying superhero thing. The rest of you really isn’t that much more work than, say, your average spoiled billionaire.”

“Vote of confidence, there, Pep.”

“I’m serious. I don’t think you’re a bad person.”

Tony seemed to consider this very hard. Then he shrugged his shoulders. “Eh, I like being single. More options, more parties. I’m still so young, baby! I’ve got a lot of the world’s genitals left to see. Or maybe the saying is plenty of fish in the sea? Something about opportunities.”

Steve huffed to himself and put down his vodka. It wasn’t doing anything for him, anyway. Clint had passed out trying to drink Natasha under the table, and now she and Thor were playing strip poker. But despite his “archaic” sensibilities, he was beginning to think that was better than listening to a drunk Tony and a more-than-tipsy Pepper discuss Tony’s sex life.

It just—it broke his heart to see Tony devalue himself so much. Sure, the man was abrasive and defensive, but all with good reason. Tony had a heart of gold underneath it all. He was the first one to call for a status report when something went awry. He was almost obsessive about repairing and improving the team’s battle gear. He was passionate, witty, loyal, and more intelligent than any person Steve had ever met, except maybe Thor’s girlfriend Jane. 

Tony always knew just what to say to raise everyone’s spirits, and he was more sensitive to mood changes and emotions than Steve. He always managed to have a listening ear and a glass of something alcoholic. And his affectionate gifts were extravagant and bizarre, but personally tailored for the receiver and well-intentioned. 

Steve admired Tony a great deal, and would have gone steady with him even without the whole falling in love thing. But here was hard cold proof that Tony was not interested in dating. He was too free, too independent. Perhaps, Steve mused, that was for the better. He tended to be overprotective of his friends. Tony wouldn’t appreciate that, even if he was looking for a partner. 

Steve called out a soft good night to the room, then headed to his floor. He wouldn’t do well to cry over spilt milk. It was time to get over his crush. Or his passionate love-fest, whatever. 

Either way, the most he could do for Tony was be the best friend he could be. That was good, right? He could still be close to him, be supportive without a romantic element to their relationship. It was the best he could do, to try to stay close to Tony for as long as he would let him. 

The elevator pulled him away from the team, and Steve felt a grey loneliness settle over him, like a sea between him and the only friends he had in this century. He promised himself it would be gone in the morning.

It wasn’t, but Steve kept ignoring it.

 

.o0o.

 

_“I’ve been settling scores,_  
_I’ve been fighting so long,_  
_But I lost your war_  
_And your kingdom is gone._  
_How shall I win back_  
_Your heart which was mine?_  
_I have broken bones and tattered clothes;_  
_I’ve run out of time.” —Pentatonix, “Run To You”_

.o0o.

Tony Stark would like to think of himself as a realist. He knew what he had the power to get, and which things he would never be able to obtain. He resigned himself to not having what he wanted at a very young age, and so he made it a rather bad habit to get what he could, when he could, and not expect the world to give him a second chance. This gave him the outward impression of being selfish, stingy, or spoilt. He encouraged this misperception, because if people didn’t know your weak spots, they couldn’t hit you there. 

But the truth was that Tony’s tendency towards hoarding things was more for the benefit of others than himself. He wanted his friends to be cared for, to feel loved. He wanted to give them what he couldn’t give himself. 

Yes, it was psychologically unsound behavior, but in a house full of superheroes, Tony’s brain was not the first one a therapist wanted to pick. 

Still. Steve was a bit of a bruised subject for Tony and his id. 

You see, Tony craved Steve like a twelve year old craves caffeine and boy bands. And Tony knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he would never be able to have him.

A lot of time had passed between their first meeting and now, almost a year since the invasion. During that time, Tony had been astonished by Cap’s willingness to forgive his atrocious behavior and try to be friends, but no matter what Tony said, he somehow managed to say exactly the wrong thing. He would joke too quickly, poke at bruises that weren’t healed, and in general make an ass out of himself. 

Fortunately Steve seemed to laugh at him more than he scowled at him now, but that didn’t mean Tony was in the clear. No, sir. Tony Stark wanted to make the best possible—friend? colleague?—that he could be, and that meant it was time for a change.

Tony got into the habit of cleaning and repairing the team’s gear after a hard run. It calmed his nerves, reassured him that the injuries he had seen were the only ones they had. He trusted his own work more than anything SHIELD could come up with, so it made sense to look over the suits for improvements. He found he enjoyed the work, and the more he knew about his teammates, the more personalized their go-to weapons and battle gear became. Soon what had started as a way to calm himself down after battle was the part of an op he most looked forward to.

If the others noticed the improvements, they didn’t say anything. At first at least. One day after a particularly long and grueling fight, Thor commented on the comms about being grateful to have such a skilled tailor at hand. 

“This material reminds me of heather silk from Asgard. I have not been so comfortable in armor since I was last home,” Thor offered. “My compliments to your midgardian tailor.”

“Thanks, Point Break,” Tony had returned. “Glad that my work is up to snuff.”

“But surely you—“ Thor cut himself off. “I am most honored by the work of your hands, shield-brother.”

“I…” Tony hummed awkwardly. “I’m honored that you’re honored, I guess?”

This seemed to appease the god. But from that point on, Tony noticed an influx of compliments on everything from fit to feel to Clint’s ergonomic quiver. It was…surprising, but not at all unwelcome.

“Thanks for the touch up on my shield’s paint job, Tony,” Steve had mentioned one day. 

“No prob, Cap. Any thoughts about the rotation speed?”

Steve got that little dent between his eyebrows that meant he was trying very hard to understand something. “It’s…great. No problems,” he murmured. Tony gave him half an odd look before he was distracted by Clint’s argument against toaster strudel. 

Later that week, Steve came up to him again, holding the shield. “I’m sorry I didn’t even notice at first, but it’s a lot smoother in the arcs, now. How did you do that? How did you even think to improve that? I didn’t even notice it until I was looking.”

Tony just grinned. “I make it my business to be looking, Steve-oh. Do my share and all that.” He thought that was fairly ambiguous, but something about his answer must have displeased Steve, because that dent was back. “I’m happy to do it,” he simplified, even though it felt sappy. After a slight hesitation, Steve smiled softly. 

“I’m glad you’re glad,” he murmured, and his lashes kissed his cheek shyly. 

Tony made some fumbling excuse to leave the room, because he was hard in his pants. Jesus, he was pathetic. 

 

.o0o.

 

“Tony’s running himself ragged,” Bruce mentioned at the tail end of one of the team bonding nights, which Steve attended religiously and Tony skipped ‘on the principle of the thing.’ “Guy has barely gotten twelve hours of sleep this week.”

Natasha was tossing the last few popcorn kernels at the back of Clint’s head with startling precision, and he was somehow catching each one and getting them stuck in her hair. They both stopped when the doctor spoke. “Do you think he’s drinking again?” she asked.

“No,” Bruce waved her off. “He makes a show of always having bourbon available if others want it, but I haven’t seen him drink harder than coffee since christmas. It’s gotta be something else.” 

“How much time does he spend on Stark Industries stuff?” Clint asked. “Thirty, thirty-five percent of his week? And then he does all the cleanup with the press, all our repairs…” Steve was doing the math in his head. That left…not nearly enough time for Tony to be around as much as he was. Somehow, their own billionaire had turned into a glorified housemaid. 

“We gotta do something,” Steve decided firmly. “This week.” The others agreed. They spent the last few minutes of the movie coming up with plans to save Tony Stark.

 

.o0o.

 

Steve took to bringing meals down to the lab when one or more of its occupants forgot to eat for twelve hours or longer. It may have just been happenstance that, more often than not, the recipient was Tony. No one could confirm if this was one of his driving factors for the new habit.

Bruce would gamely accept his portion of the food when he was around, and casually talk Tony into partaking as well. He also tended to sleep at least six hours out of every thirty, and bugged Tony on and off to be doing the same. Steve appreciated his contribution.

Natasha began a training regimen with Stark of kickboxing and hand-to-hand, “in case you get caught in just your skin.” She barked orders like Steve’s old drill sergeant, and worked at wearing Tony down almost relentlessly. Indeed, after lesson with her, he was much more likely to say yes to a nap.

Clint took mission:Get Tony To Bed very seriously, and whenever he felt it was necessary, he would slip sleeping pills into the team’s food or beverages. This had the unfortunate side effect of honking them all out for about four to seven hours, and so Steve tried to discourage it, but he had yet to actually catch Clint slipping anything anywhere. It was hard to put a stop to what you couldn’t see.

The most obvious of them was, of course, Thor. The norse god of thunder wasn’t one for subtlety on any battlefield, least of all one that involved social norms of Midgardians. He would loudly proclaim, “Man of Iron! A rest is needed before you continue this worthy cause,” or, “I think your time is precious, Stark, and time for sleep is most precious of all,” or, on one particularly memorable occasion, “The time of napping has arrived! You must join me, it is tradition.” Tony’s reaction to all of these was…less than good.

“You doubting my skills? I may not be a god, but I have stamina. Everyone says so.”

“Okay, sleep is overrated here on Midgard. I believe in the power of caffeine, and wishes. Also science.”

“Seriously? You have a nap-time? How old are you, four?”

Thor’s solemn response was, “A thousand years your senior, at least. I do not see how my age affects my need for regular rest. It is not shameful, to need something, Man of Iron.” Steve wondered again how anyone thought Thor was dumb or shallow. 

With all their efforts, Tony’s schedule evened out noticeably but not near enough. Tony probably was sleeping better and longer now than he had in years, but Steve thought that his free time was important, too. And no one could tell Tony how to spend his time.

Finally, one dreary March day, Steve gave up and went to talk to him. As he entered the workshop, he greeted Dummy and You with his usual aplomb somewhat missing.

Tony, being a genius, noticed. “Hey, Cap. You alright?”

Steve shrugged. “I’m fine. Listen, I, I know it’s not really any of my business, but—I wonder if you’d let me be your friend for a minute, and not your captain, or team leader, or anything else.”

Tony set down the pad he was playing with and angled his shoulders more towards Steve. “Shoot. What’s up?”

“So, I know you spend a lot of your time…taking care of us. Our stuff, and the team’s press, and just in general making everything run smoother. And I appreciate it, I really—I can’t tell you what it means to me that you’ve dedicated yourself to this team. It’s…inspiring to see.” 

Tony blew it off. “Aw, you are too much. I’m flattered, really. I mean, you? Inspired by me? That’s more than even my ego needs to hear.”

“I only said it cause I want you to stop,” Steve said quickly. Tony’s face did that thing where it twisted up funny. “No, not stop, I’m sorry. I, I want you to, er, listen.” Steve cleared his throat nervously. 

“You do so much for us, and for the company, and I want you to know that we see it. We see that you’re working hard, so hard to make it fit, but we also see that it’s taking a toll on you, and I, you have to come first, Tony. I—We care about you, not because of what you do for us, but because you're you. I don’t want you to run yourself ragged trying to—deserve us, or something, when I feel like I don’t deserve to have you. Um. On the team. As a friend.” This was getting away from him. “I just—“

“Are you—“ Tony said at the same time. “Sorry, Are you done?” Steve nodded. “Okay. Um, I appreciate your appreciation? But, I do what I do cuz’ I want to. You can’t—You can’t control my time.”

“And I don’t want to. That’s what I’m saying, I don't want to be taking up so much of your time if—“

“Well, it’s my time, I’ll spend it how I like—“

“—when really, it’s not something you have to do, I mean I lo—like your modifications, the shield and everything, its really—“

“—-well, thank you, don’t expect it to stop. I’m not gonna leave you with worse than the best—“

“—It’s just, I’d like to maybe spend some time with you, you know, outside of life or death situations—“

“—I don’t, you just said you didn’t want to take up my time, I’m confused now, do you want to spend time with me or not? Because I was under the impression that I was—“

“—really funny, you know, I don’t know how you come up with—“

“—annoying, or childish, or reminded you of my dead father—“

“—DON’T bring him into this.”

Tony stopped.

“Tony, I talked to your father, like, four times ever. I thought he was hitting on Peggy, I didn’t—I was jealous of him. That’s all I really remember about him. I don’t compare you to him, I like you for you.”

This seemed to shake Tony. Steve let that proclamation sit in the air for a few moments. Then he grasped Tony’s shoulder in what he hoped wasn’t an obvious ply for physical touch.

“Do you want to get dinner, sometime?”

Wow. That was NOT what he was hoping to say, that was horrible—

“Sure,” Tony answered. His mouth was tilted into a smile on one side. 

And, wow, that was kinda nice. Steve couldn’t think of anything better than being smiled at by Tony.

Oh. Well, that was, one thing.

All at once there was the briefest touch of Tony’s lips against his own, and Steve’s head was spinning, like he would never touch the ground again. He tried to remember not to crush Tony’s shoulder, but Tony didn’t seem to mind all that much. Suddenly he was very close to Steve, his hands mirroring Steve’s and wrapping around his arms. 

“I didn’t horribly misread that, did I?” he asked in a puff of breath which was, oh, right against Steve’s cheek.

“Nope,” Steve answered, then swept in to taste his mouth once more. And yeah, that was nice.


End file.
